


with the current

by Catsarecutebutaliens



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Catra (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, Catra Needs Therapy (She-Ra), Character Study, Childhood Trauma, Developing Relationship, Dissociation, Gen, Identity Issues, Loss of Identity, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Trauma, someone help that poor cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:41:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26462074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsarecutebutaliens/pseuds/Catsarecutebutaliens
Summary: Bright Moon is safe and welcoming, its halls filled with light laughter and the smell of roses. It feels like a fairytale to Catra, as if she simply needed to wake up to find herself back in the Fright Zone, Adora by her side.She can't remember when she fell asleep.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	with the current

There was a bitter taste to knowing she was supposed to be better now but truly had not moved an inch from where she had started.

The current was parting around her, carrying Adora past her faster than she could reach for her, leaving her stranded and alone on a cold rock in the middle of the river. She was scared to go in, scared of drowning, of never reaching the shore, but also hesitant to stay where she was. Both options seemed unreal, as if they were too far away to have any chance of success, so she didn't dare choose.

Catra stayed on her lonely little rock and watched motionless as her past got washed away.

It wasn't noticeable at first, not in the way the present pulled her in back then. She was busy acquainting herself with the castle and its grounds, and with reacquainting herself with Adora and the princesses. Distrust and fear still circulated between them, but as the weeks passed and they slowly started rebuilding their kingdoms together, the ice between them began to melt. They considered her to be a friend after a while, and "The Horde" no longer included her when they talked about it.

No one dared to venture into the Fright Zone, to see whether there was anything left to recover, so Catra didn't either. The way they talked about, insulted it, whenever it came up caused vile sickness to rise in her stomach. There was no reason why she should feel attacked by their disdain for it, she was no longer part of it, she was no longer a soldier ( _ right ? _ ), but a small part of her still wanted to growl and attack whenever someone dared to speak badly about it.

Her home.

Within their small circle, any relation she still held to the Horde dissipated, except for the fight they had won together.

Her pain, though, did not disappear.

Their acceptance came at a price, and she was willing to pay it, did pay it, until she realized there would be nothing left of her once she was done doing so. Being with the Horde, struggling with Hordak and the Princesses, aligning with Horde Prime to save both herself and the planet - those things had not simply happened to her, they had  _ become _ her. There was nothing to tell her who she was outside of it, and, if she was being honest with herself, she was too scared to look for something new in case there was nothing left to find.

Parts of herself splintered off while she stood by and watched, eager to form new connections just to find herself unable to.

For a while, Adora shone so brightly beside her, it pained to look at her. She-ra, the shining star of the rebellion, did not fear waking up in the morning just to find nothing had changed. She-ra did not wander the smooth, pastel halls at night, unfamiliar with their twists and turns and uncomfortable with their seeming perfection. 

Adora did not cling to Catra like she was a raft; like she was drowning and Catra was all that could save her. Soft, grey eyes looked at her, a smile on her lips, and then she moved on. She always moved on.

Dusk and dawn, Catra soon came to realize, had lost their beauty, too. Without the sharp, dark metal of the Fright Zone, without the fear of Shadow Weaver in her back, without the twisted sense of belonging pink and purple hands had torn from her chest, the sun simply rose and fell over white towers and green grass as if there was nothing more to it.

Feet planted carelessly on the tiles, Catra nevertheless watched it every morning and evening, standing still as the world and its people bustled about. They looked like ants to her, small and insignificant, but there was no sense of superiority to it. 

Instead, Catra was the one to feel alone, drifting above them, rising higher and higher while everyone failed to notice her leaving.

After a while, even once she came down from the roof, eyes still burning with red sunlight, she didn't stop drifting. Hours swam into days swam into weeks and life rushed by, disorienting her until all sense of time and self dissipated like smoke in the wind. She waited for someone to stop beside her, to look into her eyes, take her hands, and pull her into the current. She waited for the current to stop.

Catra waited and waited, and the current moved on.

**Author's Note:**

> A small, rough piece of character study about Catra. I miss her already tbh.  
> If you read to the end, please consider leaving kudos and maybe even a comment, it really helps a lot c:


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